Song of the Dead

by Sarah Glenn Marsh

  As we draw nearer, a buzzing like angry hornets fills my ears. It’s a good thing we’ve started training. Our volunteers are about to see firsthand why there’s a need.

  Rounding a final corner and emerging onto the palace’s front lawn, the source of the smoke and the shouting becomes clear: Beyond the wrought-iron gates and the line of guards protecting them—guards who must have been forced to retreat up the hill—a figure burns high on the hillside while a crowd looks on. Some watch in horror, but a few have a certain gleam in their eyes that tells me exactly who started the fire. Others break away from the crowd, running to fetch buckets, I’ll wager.

  But somehow, given the distance to their homes, I don’t think they’ll be fast enough.

  The burning figure is about three times the size of a normal person, with an old man’s gnarled face and a stack of books clutched to his chest, made entirely of straw. A hastily and poorly constructed statue of Change.

  Monsters I can handle, but I have no idea what to do about unhappy people.

  As the figure continues to smolder, its legs, thick as tree trunks, give way. It collapses facedown on the hill in the direction of the palace, setting the grass ablaze in the same place where Hadrien turned a beloved king into a soulless monster.

  Though I should be hot from running here, the sweat that clings to my skin is cold as winter rain.

  Jax, pushing his way through the guards, bangs a fist against the iron bars of the gate and shouts an obscenity at the crowd. Of course, that only riles those who started the fire further. Even among those who didn’t, there are some who join in the chanting with a certain note of desperation that rattles my bones.

  “The inventor queen is mad!”

  “Bring back our Dead!”

  Following the path Jax created, I push my face up against the gate as the crowd grows, so many expressionless faces turned toward the fingers of flame reaching toward the palace. Unlike our meager volunteer army of forty, there are hundreds of unhappy Karthians. Some even climbed the hill to swell their ranks despite bearing signs of pox and other illnesses.

  The first few who left now come running back up the hillside with buckets, sloshing water everywhere, but the fire is spreading toward the bountiful palace gardens too quickly for them to do much good. If they don’t stop it in time, we could lose everything from ancient strains of flowers to our precious citrus trees.

  “Now isn’t the time for this!” I yell through the gate at the angry and worried people alike, even though there’s no way they can hear me over their own shouts. “You’re all impossible!”

  These people, the same people who helped stop Hadrien and killed Shades to save the city, seem to think Valoria is no different from her brother, hungry for progress at any cost. I have to help them see that the only changes she wants are ones for the better, because right now, all they’re doing is hurting the person who wants to protect them most. Yet while defending Valoria against threats involving the Dead comes easily to me, I don’t know how to begin changing people’s hearts and minds. Spirits are simple. The living perplex me.

  Someone touches my shoulder—Valoria, having limped her way here at last—and I extend an arm, inviting her to lean against me for a moment before I join the palace guards and our volunteers rushing to put out the flames now licking at the garden’s edge.

  She shakes her head, smiling regretfully, then steps forward to address the crowd. “Who did this?” she demands, her voice ringing out like a battle cry. “Whose idea was it? Please, I’m not going to shoot you.” She motions to her closest bodyguards to lower their weapons. “We’re too much at odds already. In Vaia’s name, I just want to talk.”

  “How about you listen instead?” someone challenges. “Or do we need to keep destroying your creations?”

  I pass a bucket off to an older man and decide to linger at Valoria’s side a while longer. I want to see who spoke, and with some of the crowd now joining the guards in attempting to douse the fire, I’m not needed as urgently.

  There’s a small stir as a tall, blond young man breaks free from the crowd and lopes up to the gate. His big hazel eyes gaze steadily at Valoria as he approaches, his hands raised to show he has no weapons. “Tell me: What else will we have to burn, Majesty, before there’s no more change in Karthia? Before you honor King Wylding’s ways? Our demands are simple: Rebuild Grenwyr City as it was, not how you want it to be. Uphold the laws we’ve always had instead of writing new ones. And most importantly, have your necromancers return all the Dead you sent away.”

  Valoria and I exchange a glance. “At least he’s not trying to murder anyone,” I mouth to her before directing a glare at youngish man’s angular, lightly bearded face. I like that he’s direct, but I don’t like the threat he poses to my friend.

  Squaring her shoulders, Valoria meets the man’s eyes. “Assuming you don’t want to set any Shades loose within my walls, would you consider sitting down and speaking with me further about these demands over tea, sir—?”

  “Devran,” he supplies at her prompting. Narrowing his eyes, he adds, “And my people didn’t have anything to do with the Shade. We understand how dangerous they are. We didn’t know the weather mage who attacked you, either. We don’t want you gone or hurt or anything like that—I mean, at least you’re a Wylding—but until our demands are met, we’ll keep destroying whatever you try to create. We didn’t mean for the fire to spread like this, only to send a signal you couldn’t ignore.”

  “Death to the queen!” someone shouts over the end of Devran’s words.

  “That’s not the way!” he yells back. Shaking his head, he mutters more to himself than to Valoria, “There are weirdos in every rebellion.”

  “Very well, Devran. I’d like to hear your concerns.” Raising her voice, Valoria adds, “I want to hear all of your concerns! I want everyone to be happy, but in order to work toward that, we’ve got to start talking. There’s so much I want you to know—and so much for you to say to me, I’d imagine. At least give me a chance to hear you and see if I can meet your needs before you continue scaring away my work crews and wrecking everything I’m trying to build.”

  Devran smiles thinly, his gaze cool and calculating.

  For a long time, they just stare at each other. Either he’s trying to read her mind or trying to make her lose her temper. But Valoria is unwavering, hardly even blinking.

  At last, Devran says, “I’ll need your word that I’ll come out alive.”

  Terms negotiated, the palace guards open the gates to allow Devran and his right-hand woman inside as the few wisps of clouds in the blue sky swiftly turn black, drawing together into one fearsome thunderhead.

  I don’t have to look to know that somewhere nearby, Kasmira is working her magic despite her weakened hands, wrenching water from the sky to vanquish the remnants of the fire before any more harm can come to the garden.

  Raindrops mix with the tears on my cheeks, diluting their salty taste, erasing any trace of my longing for the Karthia I used to love. As for this new Karthia, the one that now seems to be resting on the shoulders of Valoria and a young man with a jaunty walk I don’t like, I’m not sure what to make of it. Only time will tell.

  * * *

  * * *

  With the fire reduced to a few smoldering remains, we all go our separate ways: Kasmira and her crew back to the Paradise, Jax and Simeon to the school to check on the students, and Valoria to talk alone with the rebel leader, leaving Meredy and me to return to our room. It takes all our self-control not to eavesdrop outside the throne room instead.

  “I need to unpack, anyway,” Meredy announces as we reach the door and let our beasts enter before us—Nipper in the lead, of course, followed by her giant grizzly friend. “Dessa, if you help me, I’ll make it worth your while . . .”

  “Is that a promise?” I ask, my heart beating a little faster.

  Bu
t all thoughts of what we might do on top of Meredy’s clothes vanish as Nipper bats something across the floor under Lysander’s nose, inviting him to play. The crystal rolls across the boards, leaving a trail of chalky marks.

  “What’s that?” Meredy asks, swiping the crystal away from Nipper. The dragon bares her teeth warningly, but Meredy, knowing the little pink creature is more smoke than fire, ignores her. She sits cross-legged on the bed, cradling the rough blue stone and watching me, evidently waiting for an explanation.

  It takes a moment to get my mouth to work, but when it does, I sit beside her and tell her how I found the crystal, and what happened the one time I used it. I can barely look at Meredy as I fumble my way through the story, but when she forces my chin up so she can study my face, there’s no judgment in her gaze whatsoever.

  Only curiosity and, I think, a bit of hope.

  “We have to try it. Right now,” Meredy says, her eyes bright and eager.

  “But it’s . . . it might not work again,” I insist, less confident now that she looks so hopeful. “Fine. We’ll try it.”

  When she and I each have a hand on the crystal, just as the old man instructed, she asks, “Ready?”

  I nod, even though I’m not. It’s like every time I decide I’m ready to move forward without Evander, something drags me back to the painful place where all I do is miss him and relive the worst days when his absence was fresh and raw.

  I count my breaths until they’re slow and even, letting every thought that’s not of Evander slip away. The crystal twitches, sending a tremor up my arm.

  Heat sears my palm. Gritting my teeth, I tighten my grip on it despite the pain and finally open my eyes.

  “Evander?” I ask hesitantly as the crystal begins to glow. I feel silly. Maybe I only imagined the voice on the ship. After all, I was feeling at my lowest then.

  Nipper chirps curiously, jumping onto the bed and trying to force her way between me and Meredy, but I ignore her.

  “Hey, Sparrow. Hey, Mer-bear.” A warm voice, a voice that sounds very much alive, fills my ears. “I was beginning to think you two had forgotten me.”

  It’s a good thing I’m sitting down, or I might fall over at the sound. “Never!” I declare, shame burning my face as I wonder whether I’ve been selfishly keeping Evander, the real Evander, from talking to Meredy—and me—for days.

  Meredy gives me an awed glance, her eyes filling with tears.

  “Tell me everything I’ve missed,” Evander prompts in the silence. His voice is like an embrace, more than making up for the pain in my hand from holding the hot crystal.

  I shake my head at Meredy. A little voice in the back of my mind still isn’t buying this for some reason. I open my mouth to ask him a question, something that will prove beyond a shadow of a doubt that the little voice is wrong, and he’s really speaking to us. But what comes out is “Van, there’s something you should know. Meredy is my girlfriend now.”

  For a moment, silence hangs over us.

  Then Evander’s voice says softly, “Moved on a little quickly, didn’t you, Sparrow? I . . . I don’t know what to say. Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad you’re doing well, and I know we agreed we’d have to love again to go on living if something happened to one of us—nature of the job and all. It’s just . . . so swift and sudden, I suppose. I’m sure our friends feel the same. Have you noticed them whispering without you?”

  Meredy’s eyes are wide, and when she blinks, tears fall onto her cheeks.

  I pull the crystal out of her hand and throw it across the room as hard as I can, breaking our connection to the magic.

  Tears fill my eyes, but not because of what Evander said. Meredy takes my hands, both of us wincing at the rawness of our burns, but we don’t let go, not even to stop Nipper from batting the crystal around in another attempt to get Lysander to play.

  It’s only after I’ve been holding on to Meredy for a while that I can speak. “That thing in the crystal . . . whatever it is . . . it’s not Evander. I’m sure of it. It was just echoing thoughts I once had, but in his voice. Not that I still have any doubts about us. Not at all,” I add quickly, as Meredy winces.

  The magic in the crystal was only repeating the doubts I’d had before I realized that what I felt for Meredy had nothing to do with Evander. Before we danced on a rooftop and fit together just right. The crystal reflected my worries almost word for word, like it was just reading my thoughts in Evander’s voice.

  “Oh, and another thing. Evander never would’ve said, ‘I suppose,’ in that snooty tone,” I add, trying to make Meredy smile with my impression.

  She still hasn’t said anything, although her eyes are now dry.

  “It isn’t him,” I insist.

  “Evander didn’t use that phrase, not that I can remember,” she says at last, nodding in agreement with me. “Still . . .” She swallows. “It was nice to hear his voice again, wasn’t it?”

  “Of course it was.” I squeeze her hands. “But we have to get rid of that thing. Evander wouldn’t want us holding on to something that only hurts us.” I nod to the crystal as Nipper swats it with her tail. It sails dangerously close to the lantern on the bedside table and strikes the wall. Good riddance. “Nipper will bury it somewhere for us, won’t you, girl? And not destroy anything in the process?”

  The dragon chirps dutifully and grabs the stone between her teeth.

  I smile at her but only briefly. Something Meredy said is bothering me: Even knowing I was only talking to a clever enchantment, it was still intoxicating to hear him. To feel the rush of memories his voice conjures. With the crystal, I could do that every day. Just like when I was taking the potions that let me see his face, even when I knew it was only an illusion, I could cling to the magic’s deceptive voice. Live for that voice.

  But I’d only be living for a memory. And in the process, I’d be hurting myself and everyone around me. I can’t do that again. I can’t get consumed by memories of Evander, losing everything and everyone else that I love.

  Never again.

  Leaping off the bed, I open the door for Nipper. “Get that awful thing out of my sight,” I tell her firmly. “Bury it in an empty grave. Or throw it off the cliffs if you have to.”

  She scampers off, her friend Lysander close behind.

  When I turn back to Meredy, who still looks shaken, she carefully wipes the tears from my soaking face. I can’t explain why I’m crying, exactly. I feel better than I have in as long as I can remember—sure of who loves me, sure that the crystal lied, and sure of my future. It’s here, with the youngest beast master in a century, who finally cracks a smile when I get her to join me in a chorus of “King for a Day” as we unpack her bags in the room we now share, and who eagerly follows me down to the throne room to see if we can eavesdrop at last.

  Of course, by the time we get there, the talk is over. It was, Valoria insists, just that—a few tense hours of talking. But by the focus in her eyes and the way she sends her ladies-in-waiting to summon the council, I sense that it was more than that.

  Not just a talk, but a beginning.

  XIV

  For taking care of the crystal, I give Nipper extra treats—sweet rolls and bacon—over the next several days. I definitely don’t miss its presence and the false hope it provides. The burns on my hand begin to heal, helped along by a salve Meredy mixed herself.

  Lately, she’s been gone for hours at a time—to see Lyda again, I’m sure—but I don’t press her for details. She’s lost enough without losing her mother completely, too. Besides, it’s not like she expects me to report to her whenever I leave for or return from patrolling for Shade-baiters—although I do, just so she won’t worry.

  Only about thirty new volunteers arrive to join Valoria’s army, not even enough to double our ranks, despite Valoria having sent ravens with requests for help to every wealthy noble in Karthia. People
who still owe favors to her Eldest Grandfather.

  We all gather in the dining hall before our usual morning training session—Valoria and her ladies-in-waiting, Danial and the ragtag volunteers, Kasmira and her crew, and me. There’s no sign of Jax, which I hope means he’s at the school with Simeon. Nor of Meredy, who said she had to help her sister with something bright and early and wasn’t sure when she’d be back.

  I miss her, but I’m glad she’s spending more time with Elibeth instead of Lyda.

  Just as we’re about to tuck into breakfast, a girl I vaguely recognize as one of the students from the mage school scurries to Valoria’s side with a message.

  Whatever the girl whispers, it makes Valoria drop her fork. “Odessa, grab your breakfast and follow me. We need to get to the temple right away.” I don’t have to ask which temple she means—the school. She’s breathless with excitement. “Danial can handle the training just fine on his own today. It’s not like we have a big crowd yet.”

  “I’m ready to go,” Freckles announces, rising from her seat.

  Valoria smiles, then shakes her head. “Thank you, Bryn, but I want you and Sarika to stay here. I’ll be fine with this one.” She nods to me with a small smile. “Even Shades should have the sense to run when they see her coming.”

  With that, the two of us set off for the Temple of Change, less than a mile’s walk from the palace.

  “Simeon said one of the students—Noranna, our inventor—has something to show us,” Valoria explains as we make our way down the deserted hill, where the ground still bears the scorch marks of a restless, unhappy kingdom. At least someone removed the blackened remains of Change’s straw figure. “Something she says would shock even the most hardened warrior. Some sort of weapon, I expect.”

  We take a longer route to the temple, avoiding the main path in favor of dirt tracks through gardens and, sometimes, no path at all through groves of unkempt trees. But with the fire still fresh in our minds, I’m uneasy about Valoria venturing out of the palace no matter how well she insists her talk with the rebel leader, Devran, went. They haven’t been able to agree on anything yet, not with Valoria so set on the idea of building her Dream City and most of her council as unwilling to bring back the Dead as she is. And while she and Devran have scheduled a second meeting to discuss a temporary halt on all building projects, I can’t stop thinking about something Devran said earlier: The Shade-baiters seem to have acted alone against Valoria, which means she has other enemies to worry about besides his people. Especially if, as they said, they only plan to destroy Valoria’s inventions and palace property when their demands aren’t met. Destroying lives is different.